see, this was how it was—I wanted to take my share in the life of the
new era that was dawning, with all its new ideas.—Rector Kroll told me
one day that Ulric Brendel had had great influence over you while you
were still a boy. I thought it must surely be possible for me to carry
on his work.
ROSMER.
You came here with a secret design——?
REBECCA.
We two, I thought, should march onward in freedom, side by side. Ever
onward. Ever farther and farther to the front. But between you and
perfect emancipation there rose that dismal, insurmountable barrier.
ROSMER.
What barrier do you mean?
REBECCA.
I mean this, Rosmer: You could grow into freedom only in the clear,
fresh sunshine—and here you were pining, sickening in the gloom of such
a marriage.
ROSMER.
You have never before spoken to me of my marriage in _that_ tone.
REBECCA.
No, I did not dare to, for I should have frightened you.
KROLL.
[_Nods to_ ROSMER.] Do you hear _that_?
REBECCA.
[_Goes on._] But I saw quite well where your deliverance lay—your only
deliverance. And then I went to work.
ROSMER.
Went to work? In what way?
KROLL.
Do you mean that——?
REBECCA.
Yes, Rosmer—— [_Rises._] Sit still. You too, Rector Kroll. But now it
must out. It was not you, Rosmer. You are innocent. It was _I_ that
lured—that ended in luring Beata out into the paths of delusion——
ROSMER.
[_Springs up._] Rebecca!
KROLL.
[_Rises from the sofa._] The paths of delusion!
REBECCA.
The paths—that led to the mill race. Now you know it, both of you.
ROSMER.
[_As if stunned._] But I don’t understand——What is it she is saying? I
don’t understand a word——!
KROLL.
Oh yes, Rosmer, I am beginning to understand.
ROSMER.
But what did you do? What can you possibly have told her? There was
nothing—absolutely nothing to tell!
REBECCA.
She came to know that you were working yourself free from all the old
prejudices.
ROSMER.
Yes, but that was not the case at that time.
REBECCA.
I knew that it soon would be.
KROLL.
[_Nods to_ ROSMER.] Aha!
ROSMER.
And then? What more? I must know all now.
REBECCA.
Some time after—I begged and implored her to let me go away from
Rosmersholm.
ROSMER.
Why did you want to go—then?
REBECCA.
I did not want to go; I wanted to stay here, where I was. But I told her
that it would be best for us all—that I should go away in time. I gave
her to understand that if I stayed here any longer, I could not—I could
not tell—what might happen.
ROSMER.
Then this is what you said and did!
REBECCA.
Yes, Rosmer.
ROSMER.
_This_ is what you call “going to work.”
REBECCA.
[_In a broken voice._] I called it so, yes.
ROSMER.
[_After a pause._] Have you confessed all now, Rebecca?
REBECCA.
Yes.
KROLL.
Not all.
REBECCA.
[_Looks at him in fear._] What more should there be?
KROLL.
Did you not at last give Beata to understand that it was necessary—not
only that it would be wisest, but that it was necessary—both for your
own sake and Rosmer’s, that you should go away somewhere—as soon as
possible?—Well?
REBECCA.
[_Low and indistinctly._] Perhaps I did say something of the sort.
ROSMER.
[_Sinks into the arm-chair by the window_] And this tissue of lies and
deceit she—my unhappy, sick wife believed in! Believed in it so firmly!
So immovably! [_Looks up at_ REBECCA.] And she never turned to me. Never
said one word to me! Oh, Rebecca,—I can see it in your face—you
dissuaded her from it!
REBECCA.
She had conceived a fixed idea that she, as a childless wife, had no
right to be here. And then she imagined that it was her duty to you to
efface herself.
ROSMER.
And you—you did nothing to disabuse her of the idea?
REBECCA.
No.
KROLL.
Perhaps you confirmed her in it? Answer me! Did you not?
REBECCA.
I believe she may have understood me so.
ROSMER.
Yes, yes—and in everything she bowed before your will. And she did
efface herself! [_Springs up._] How could you—how could you play this
ghastly game!
REBECCA.
It seemed to me I had to choose between your life and hers, Rosmer.
KROLL.
[_Severely and impressively._] That choice was not for _you_ to make.
REBECCA.
[_Vehemently._] You think then that I was cool and calculating and
self-possessed all the time! I was not the same woman then that I am
now, as I stand here telling it all. Besides, there are two sorts of
will in us I believe! I wanted Beata away, by one means or another; but
I never really believed that it would come to pass. As I felt my way
forward, at each step I ventured, I seemed to hear something within me
cry out: No farther! Not a step farther! And yet I _could_ not stop. I
had to venture the least little bit farther. Only one hair’s-breadth
more. And then one more—and always one more.—And then it happened.—That
is the way such things come about.
[_A short silence._
ROSMER
[_To_ REBECCA.] What do you think lies before _you_ now? After this?
REBECCA.
Things must go with me as they will. It doesn’t greatly matter.
KROLL.
Not a word of remorse! Is it possible you feel none?
REBECCA.
[_Coldly putting aside his question._] Excuse me, Rector Kroll—that is a
matter which concerns no one but me. I must settle it with myself.
KROLL.
[_To_ ROSMER.] And this is the woman you are living under the same roof
with—in the closest intimacy! [_Looks round at the pictures._] Oh if
those that are gone could see us now!
ROSMER.
Are you going back to town?
KROLL.
[_Takes up his hat._] Yes. The sooner the better.
ROSMER.
[_Does the same._] Then I will go with you.
KROLL.
Will you! Ah yes, I was sure we had not lost you for good.
ROSMER.
Come then, Kroll! Come!
[_Both go out through the hall without looking at_ REBECCA.
[_After a moment,_ REBECCA _goes cautiously to the window and
looks out through the flowers._
REBECCA.
[_Speaks to herself under her breath._] Not over the foot-bridge to-day
either. He goes round. Never across the mill race. Never. [_Leaves the
window._] Well, well, well!
[_Goes and pulls the bell-rope; a moment after,_ MADAM HELSETH
_enters from the right._
MADAM HELSETH.
What is it, Miss?
REBECCA.
Madam Helseth, would you be so good as to have my trunk brought down
from the garret?
MADAM HELSETH.
Your trunk?
REBECCA.
Yes—the brown sealskin trunk, you know.
MADAM HELSETH.
Yes, yes. But, Lord preserve us—are you going on a journey, Miss?
REBECCA.
Yes—now I am going on a journey, Madam Helseth.
MADAM HELSETH.
And immediately!
REBECCA.
As soon as I have packed up.
MADAM HELSETH.
Well, I’ve never heard the like of that! But you’ll come back again
soon, Miss, of course?
REBECCA.
I shall never come back again.
MADAM HELSETH.
Never! Dear Lord, what will things be like at Rosmersholm when you’re
gone, Miss? And the poor Pastor was just beginning to be so happy and
comfortable.
REBECCA.
Yes, but I have taken fright to-day, Madam Helseth.
MADAM HELSETH.
Taken fright! Dear, dear! how was that?
REBECCA.
I thought I saw something like a glimpse of white horses.
MADAM HELSETH.
White horses! In broad daylight!
REBECCA.
Oh, they are abroad early and late—the white horses of Rosmersholm.
[_With a change of tone._] Well,—about the trunk, Madam Helseth.
MADAM HELSETH.
Yes, yes. The trunk. [_Both go out to the right._
-----
Footnote 11:
In the original, Rebecca here addresses Rosmer as “_du_” for the first
time in Kroll’s presence.
ACT FOURTH.
_The sitting-room at Rosmersholm. Late evening. A lighted lamp, with a
shade over it, on the table._
REBECCA WEST _stands by the table, packing some small articles in a
hand-bag. Her cloak, hat, and the white crocheted shawl are
hanging over the back of the sofa._
MADAM HELSETH _enters from the right._
MADAM HELSETH.
[_Speaks in a low voice and appears ill at ease._] All your things have
been taken down, Miss. They are in the kitchen passage.
REBECCA.
Very well. You have ordered the carriage?
MADAM HELSETH.
Yes. The coachman wants to know what time he ought to be here.
REBECCA.
About eleven o’clock, I think. The steamer starts at midnight.
MADAM HELSETH.
[_Hesitates a little._] But the Pastor? If he shouldn’t be home by that
time?
REBECCA.
I shall go all the same. If I don’t see him, you can tell him that I
will write to him—a long letter. Tell him that.
MADAM HELSETH.
Yes, writing—that may be all very well. But, poor Miss West—I do think
you should try to speak to him once more.
REBECCA.
Perhaps so. And yet—perhaps not.
MADAM HELSETH.
Well—that I should live to see this! I never thought of such a thing.
REBECCA.
What did you think then, Madam Helseth?
MADAM HELSETH.
Well, I certainly thought Pastor Rosmer was a more dependable man than
this.
REBECCA.
Dependable?
MADAM HELSETH.
Yes, that’s what _I_ say.
REBECCA.
Why, my dear Madam Helseth, what do you mean?
MADAM HELSETH.
I mean what’s right and true, Miss. He shouldn’t get out of it in _this_
way, that he shouldn’t.
REBECCA.
[_Looks at her._] Come now, Madam Helseth, tell me plainly; what do you
think is the reason I am going away?
MADAM HELSETH.
Well, Heaven forgive us, I suppose it can’t be helped, Miss. Ah, well,
well, well! But I certainly don’t think the Pastor’s behaving
handsome-like. Mortensgård had some excuse; for her husband was alive,
so that they two couldn’t marry, however much they wanted to. But as for
the Pastor—h’m!
REBECCA.
[_With a faint smile._] Could you have believed such a thing of Pastor
Rosmer and me?
MADAM HELSETH.
No, never in this world. At least, I mean—not until to-day.
REBECCA.
But to-day, then——?
MADAM HELSETH.
Well,—after all the horrible things that they tell me the papers are
saying about the Pastor——
REBECCA.
Aha!
MADAM HELSETH.
For the man that can go over to Mortensgård’s religion—good Lord, I can
believe anything of him.
REBECCA.
Oh yes, I suppose so. But what about me? What have you to say about me?
MADAM HELSETH.
Lord preserve us, Miss—I don’t see that there’s much to be said against
you. It’s not so easy for a lone woman to be always on her guard, that’s
certain.—We’re all of us human, Miss West.
REBECCA.
That’s very true, Madam Helseth. We are all of us human.—What are you
listening to?
MADAM HELSETH.
[_In a low voice._] Oh Lord,—if I don’t believe that’s him coming.
REBECCA.
[_Starts._] After all then——? [_Resolutely._] Well well; so be it.
JOHANNES ROSMER _enters from the hall._
ROSMER.
[_Sees the hand-bag, etc., turns to_ REBECCA, _and asks_:] What does
this mean?
REBECCA.
I am going.
ROSMER.
At once?
REBECCA.
Yes. [_To_ MADAM HELSETH.] Eleven o’clock then.
MADAM HELSETH.
Very well, Miss. [_Goes out to the right._
ROSMER.
[_After a short pause._] Where are you going to, Rebecca?
REBECCA.
North, by the steamer.
ROSMER.
North? What takes you to the North?
REBECCA.
It was there I came from.
ROSMER.
But you have no ties there now.
REBECCA.
I have none here either.
ROSMER.
What do you think of doing?
REBECCA.
I don’t know. I only want to have done with it all.
ROSMER.
To have done with it?
REBECCA.
Rosmersholm has broken me.
ROSMER.
[_His attention aroused._] Do you say that?
REBECCA.
Broken me utterly and hopelessly.—I had a free and fearless will when I
came here. Now I have bent my neck under a strange law.—From this day
forth, I feel as if I had no courage for anything in the world.
ROSMER.
Why not? What is the law that you say you have——?
REBECCA.
Dear, don’t let us talk of that just now.—What happened between you and
the Rector?
ROSMER.
We have made peace.
REBECCA.
Ah yes; so that was the end.
ROSMER.
He gathered all our old friends together at his house. They have made it
clear to me that the work of ennobling the minds of men—is not for
me.—And besides, it is hopeless in itself, Rebecca.—I shall let it
alone.
REBECCA.
Yes, yes—perhaps it is best so.
ROSMER.
Is _that_ what you say now? Do you think so _now_?
REBECCA.
I have come to think so—in the last few days.
ROSMER.
You are lying, Rebecca.
REBECCA.
Lying——!
ROSMER.
Yes, you are lying. You have never believed in me. You have never
believed that I was man enough to carry the cause through to victory.
REBECCA.
I believed that we two together could do it.
ROSMER.
That is not true. You thought that you yourself could do something great
in life; and that you could use me to further your ends. I was to be a
serviceable instrument to you—_that_ is what you thought.
REBECCA.
Listen to me, Rosmer——
ROSMER.
[_Seats himself listlessly on the sofa._] Oh, what is the use? I see
through it all now—I have been like a glove in your hands.
REBECCA.
Listen, Rosmer. Hear what I have to say. It will be for the last time.
[_Sits in a chair close to the sofa._] I intended to write you all about
it—when I was back in the North. But I daresay it is best that you
should hear it at once.
ROSMER.
Have you more confessions to make?
REBECCA.
The greatest of all is to come.
ROSMER.
The greatest?
REBECCA.
What you have never suspected. What gives light and shade to all the
rest.
ROSMER.
[_Shakes his head._] I don’t understand you at all.
REBECCA.
It is perfectly true that I once schemed to gain a footing at
Rosmersholm. I thought I could not fail to turn things to good account
here. In one way or the other—you understand.
ROSMER.
Well, you accomplished your ends.
REBECCA.
I believe I could have accomplished anything, anything in the world—at
that time. For I had still my fearless, free-born will. I knew no
scruples—I stood in awe of no human tie.—But then began what has broken
my will—and cowed me so pitiably for all my days.
ROSMER.
What began? Do not speak in riddles.
REBECCA.
It came over me,—this wild, uncontrollable passion——. Oh, Rosmer——!
ROSMER.
Passion? You——! For what?
REBECCA.
For you.
ROSMER.
[_Tries to spring up._] What is this?
REBECCA.
[_Stops him._] Sit still, dear; there is more to tell.
ROSMER.
And you mean to say—that you have loved me—in that way!
REBECCA.
I thought that it should be called love—then. Yes, I thought it was
love. But it was not. It was what I said. It was a wild, uncontrollable
passion.
ROSMER.
[_With difficulty._] Rebecca, is it really you—you yourself—that you are
speaking of?
REBECCA.
Yes, would you believe it, Rosmer?
ROSMER.
Then it was because of this—under the influence of this—that you—that
you “went to work,” as you call it?
REBECCA.
It came upon me like a storm on the sea. It was like one of the storms
we sometimes have in the North in the winter-time. It seizes you—and
whirls you along with it—wherever it will. There is no resisting it.
ROSMER.
And so it swept the unhappy Beata into the mill race.
REBECCA.
Yes; for it was a life-and-death struggle between Beata and me at that
time.
ROSMER.
Assuredly you were the strongest at Rosmersholm. Stronger than Beata and
I together.
REBECCA.
I judged you rightly in so far that I was sure I could never reach you
until you were a free man, both in circumstances—and in spirit.
ROSMER.
But I don’t understand you, Rebecca. You—yourself—your whole conduct is
an insoluble riddle to me. I am free now—both in spirit and in
circumstances. You have reached the very goal you aimed at from the
first. And yet——
REBECCA.
I have never stood farther from my goal than now.
ROSMER.
And yet I say—when I asked you yesterday—begged you to be my wife—you
cried out, as if in fear, that it could never be.
REBECCA.
I cried out in despair, Rosmer.
ROSMER.
Why?
REBECCA.
Because Rosmersholm has sapped my strength. My old fearless will has had
its wings clipped here. It is crippled! The time is past when I had
courage for anything in the world. I have lost the power of action,
Rosmer.
ROSMER.
Tell me how this has come about.
REBECCA.
It has come about through my life with you.
ROSMER.
But how? How?
REBECCA.
When I was left alone with you here,—and when you had become yourself
again——
ROSMER.
Yes, yes?
REBECCA.
——for you were never quite yourself so long as Beata lived——
ROSMER.
I am afraid you are right there.
REBECCA.
But when I found myself sharing your life here,—in quiet—in
solitude,—when you showed me all your thoughts without reserve—every
tender and delicate feeling, just as it came to you—_then_ the great
change came over me. Little by little, you understand. Almost
imperceptibly—but at last with such overwhelming force that it reached
to the depths of my soul.
ROSMER.
Oh, is this true, Rebecca?
REBECCA.
All the rest—the horrible sense-intoxicated desire—passed far, far away
from me. All the whirling passions settled down into quiet and silence.
Rest descended on my soul—a stillness as on one of our northern
bird-cliffs under the midnight sun.
ROSMER.
Tell me more of this. Tell me all you can.
REBECCA.
There is not much more, dear. Only this—it was love that was born in me.
The great self-denying love, that is content with life, as we two have
lived it together.
ROSMER.
Oh, if I had only had the faintest suspicion of all this!
REBECCA.
It is best as it is. Yesterday—when you asked me if I would be your
wife—I cried out with joy——
ROSMER.
Yes, did you not, Rebecca! I thought that was the meaning of your cry.
REBECCA.
For a moment, yes. I had forgotten myself. It was my old buoyant will
that was struggling to be free. But it has no energy left now—no power
of endurance.
ROSMER.
How do you account for what has happened to you?
REBECCA.
It is the Rosmer view of life—or _your_ view of life, at any rate—that
has infected my will.
ROSMER.
Infected?
REBECCA.
And made it sick. Enslaved it to laws that had no power over me before.
You—life with you—has ennobled my mind——
ROSMER.
Oh that I could believe it!
REBECCA.
You may safely believe it! The Rosmer view of life ennobles.
But——[_Shaking her head._] But—but——
ROSMER.
But——? Well?
REBECCA.
——but it kills happiness.
ROSMER.
Do you think so, Rebecca?
REBECCA.
My happiness, at any rate.
ROSMER.
Yes, but are you so certain of that? If I were to ask you again now——?
If I were to beg and entreat you——?
REBECCA.
Dear,—never speak of this again! It is impossible——! For you must know,
Rosmer, I have a—a past behind me.
ROSMER.
More than what you have told me?
REBECCA.
Yes. Something different and something more.
ROSMER.
[_With a faint smile._] Is it not strange, Rebecca? Some such idea has
crossed my mind now and then.
REBECCA.
It has? And yet——? Even so——?
ROSMER.
I never believed it. I only played with it—in my thoughts, you
understand.
REBECCA.
If you wish it, I will tell you all, at once.
ROSMER.
[_Turning it off._] No, no! I will not hear a word. Whatever it may be—I
can forget it.
REBECCA.
But I cannot.
ROSMER.
Oh Rebecca——!
REBECCA.
Yes, Rosmer—_this_ is the terrible part of it: that now, when all life’s
happiness is within my grasp—my heart is changed, and my own past cuts
me off from it.
ROSMER.
Your past is dead, Rebecca. It has no hold on you any more—it is no part
of you—as you are _now_.
REBECCA.
Oh, you know that these are only phrases, dear. And innocence? Where am
I to get _that_ from?
ROSMER.
[_Sadly._] Ah,—innocence.
REBECCA.
Yes, innocence. That is the source of peace and happiness. _That_ was
the vital truth you were to implant in the coming generation of happy
noble-men——
ROSMER.
Oh, don’t remind me of _that_. It was only an abortive dream, Rebecca—an
immature idea, that I myself no longer believe in.—Ah no, we cannot be
ennobled from without, Rebecca.
REBECCA.
[_Softly._] Not even by tranquil love, Rosmer?
ROSMER.
[_Thoughtfully._] Yes—_that_ would be the great thing—the most glorious
in life, almost—if it _were_ so. [_Moves uneasily._] But how can I be
certain of that? How convince myself?
REBECCA.
Do you not believe me, Rosmer?
ROSMER.
Oh Rebecca—how _can_ I believe in you, fully? You who have all this
while been cloaking, concealing such a multitude of things!—Now you come
forward with something new. If you have a secret purpose in all this,
tell me plainly what it is. Is there anything you want to gain by it?
You know that I will gladly do everything I can for you.
REBECCA.
[_Wringing her hands._] Oh this killing doubt——! Rosmer—Rosmer——!
ROSMER.
Yes, is it not terrible, Rebecca? But I cannot help it. I shall never be
able to shake off the doubt. I can never be absolutely sure that you are
mine in pure and perfect love.
REBECCA.
Is there nothing in the depths of your own heart that bears witness to
the transformation in me? And tells you that it is due to you—and you
alone?
ROSMER.
Oh Rebecca—I no longer believe in my power of transforming any one. My
faith in myself is utterly dead. I believe neither in myself nor in you.
REBECCA.
[_Looks darkly at him._] Then how will you be able to live your life?
ROSMER.
That I don’t know. I cannot imagine how. I don’t think I _can_ live
it.—And I know of nothing in the world that is worth living for.
REBECCA.
Oh, life—life will renew itself. Let us hold fast to it, Rosmer.—We
shall leave it soon enough.
ROSMER.
[_Springs up restlessly._] Then give me my faith again! My faith in
_you_, Rebecca! My faith in your love! Proof! I must have proof!
REBECCA.
Proof? How can I give you proof——?
ROSMER.
You _must_! [_Walks across the room._] I cannot bear this
desolation—this horrible emptiness—this—this——
[_A loud knock at the hall door._
REBECCA.
[_Starts up from her chair._] Ah—did you hear that?
_The door opens._ ULRIC BRENDEL _enters. He has a white shirt
on, a black coat and a good pair of boots, with his trousers
tucked into them. Otherwise he is dressed as in the first
Act. He looks excited._
ROSMER.
Ah, is it you, Mr. Brendel?
BRENDEL.
Johannes, my boy—hail—and farewell!
ROSMER.
Where are you going so late?
BRENDEL.
Downhill.
ROSMER.
How——?
BRENDEL.
I am going homewards, my beloved pupil. I am home-sick for the mighty
Nothingness.
ROSMER.
Something has happened to you, Mr. Brendel! What is it?
BRENDEL.
So you observe the transformation? Yes—well you may. When I last set
foot in these halls—I stood before you as a man of substance, and
slapped my breast-pocket.
ROSMER.
Indeed! I don’t quite understand——
BRENDEL.
But as you see me this night, I am a deposed monarch on the ash-heap
that was my palace.
ROSMER.
If there is anything _I_ can do for you——
BRENDEL.
You have preserved your child-like heart, Johannes. Can you grant me a
loan?
ROSMER.
Yes, yes, most willingly!
BRENDEL.
Can you spare me an ideal or two?
ROSMER.
What do you say?
BRENDEL.
One or two cast-off ideals. It would be an act of charity. For I’m
cleaned out, my boy. Ruined, beggared.
REBECCA.
Have you not delivered your lecture?
BRENDEL.
No, seductive lady. What do you think? Just as I am standing ready to
pour forth the horn of plenty, I make the painful discovery that I am
bankrupt.
REBECCA.
But all your unwritten works——?
BRENDEL.
For five-and-twenty years I have sat like a miser on his double-locked
treasure-chest. And then yesterday—when I open it and want to display
the treasure—there’s none there! The teeth of time had ground it into
dust. There was nix and nothing in the whole concern.
ROSMER.
But are you so sure of that?
BRENDEL.
There’s no room for doubt, my dear fellow. The President has convinced
me of it.
ROSMER.
The President?
BRENDEL.
Well well—His Excellency then. _Ganz nach Belieben._
ROSMER.
Whom do you mean?
BRENDEL.
Peter Mortensgård, of course.
ROSMER.
What?
BRENDEL.
[_Mysteriously._] Hush, hush, hush! Peter Mortensgård is the lord and
leader of the future. Never have I stood in a more august presence.
Peter Mortensgård has the secret of omnipotence. He can do whatever he
will.
ROSMER.
Oh, don’t believe that.
BRENDEL.
Yes, my boy! For Peter Mortensgård never wills more than he can do.
Peter Mortensgård is capable of living his life without ideals. And
_that_, do you see—_that_ is just the mighty secret of action and of
victory. It is the sum of the whole world’s wisdom. _Basta!_
ROSMER.
[_In a low voice._] Now I understand—why you leave here poorer than you
came.
BRENDEL.
_Bien!_ Then take a _Beispiel_ by your ancient teacher. Rub out all that
he once imprinted on your mind. Build not thy house on shifting sand.
And look ahead—and feel your way—before you build on this exquisite
creature, who here lends sweetness to your life.
REBECCA.
Is it me you mean?
BRENDEL.
Yes, my fascinating mermaid.
REBECCA.
Why am I not to be built on?
BRENDEL.
[_Comes a step nearer._] I gather that my former pupil has a great cause
to carry forward to victory.
REBECCA.
What then——?
BRENDEL.
Victory is assured. But—mark me well—on one indispensable condition.
REBECCA.
Which is——?
BRENDEL.